


Cathouse

by orphan_account



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cuckolding, Foot Jobs, M/M, sauna sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 20:37:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12465484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sometimes you just have to make do with what you've got on hand.





	Cathouse

———

Yuri entered the hotel elevator wearing nothing but a complimentary, fluffy robe and a scowl. His toes curled on the faux-marble as the door shuddered closed behind him, thumb jabbing violently at the button advertising the hotel’s recreation level.

As the elevator began to descend, Yuri’s scowl only increased ten-fold. Just like the lobby of the hotel, the walls of the elevator space were painted in posters of Jean-Jacques-Maple-Dick’s idiot’s face. Too-small text at the bottom of the posters denoting the patriotic alliance said ‘athlete’ had to Skate Canada. 

Yuri reached up to rip down one particular poster that grinned toothily at him from the elevator doors, vainly interrupting never ending assault of red, white and _JJ STYLE_. He crumpled up the torn paper with one hand, tossing it into the corner of the elevator before the door’s opened with a polite ‘ding’.

His slender jaw was grit hard as he stalked down the dimly light hall, reiterating the one thought that had been echoing through his mind since he step foot into the hotel.

_Fuck Canada._

When Yuri had arrived three-hours late for his check in he was met with a horrifyingly varied selection of life-sized standees that had greeted him in a regiment of ‘JJ STYLE’ at the doors of the official hotel. 

Yuri had made a point to very publicly kick them over, much to the displeasure of the CBC reporting staff that had littered the hotel foyer. And to make matters worse, once he elbowed through the swarm of paparazzi he found out, much to his horror, the official hotel had overbooked in lieu of the sheer number of Jean-Jacques-Poutine-Ass’ fans. Ultimately meaning Yuri had to share a room with _Mila_. 

It was not an optimal situation to say the least. 

So instead of slamming the door closed to his own room, stripping and blissfully jacking himself off with two fingers wedged up his ass as he stared at Otabek’s latest private Instagram post (shirtless pool selfie, _hot_ ), he was instead searching for somewhere to jack off in privacy. And in the spirit of Otabek’s social media post, chlorinated droplets rolling off his golden coloured skin, Yuri decided the best place for it was the hotel pool at almost-midnight.

But as was the way with MAPLE-LEAF-FUCK-COUNTRY instead of privacy when Yuri swiped himself through to the pool area, he was immediately met by the cackling sounds of other guests somewhere in the vicinity of the hot tub. A few feminine titters (which Yuri _swore_ sounded a little too much like Mila) and an exaggerated male laugh reverberating off the tiled walls.

It was five minutes before the pool closed, it was not the time for some jacked-up nobody’s threesome, _for fuck’s sake_. He lingered in the doorway, wincing against the sounds of splashing water layered in a crescendo female giggling.

If he didn’t relax and beat one out before practice tomorrow he’d embarrass himself in front of a whole sea of white and red maple-fuckers.

And for Yuri Plisetsky, that was not an option.

Yuri’s eyes peaked through the curtain of blonde hair that covered half of his face, searching for somewhere, _anywhere_. That anywhere revealed itself as a dark-woodgrain door down the side hall next to the gym. 

The sauna.

Gripping his phone tight in his fingers, Yuri crept around the side of the pool, out of sight of the handful of patrons in the hot tub, pilfering a towel from a nearby rack as he did.

The heat and humidity hit him like a wet slap to the face; taking his breath away and leaving him panting as the door swung shut behind him. The scent of pine almost overwhelmed him. The smell coalescing in an aromatic haze that rose from the walls, the roof, all dull-red panelled cedar. 

The sauna was embarrassingly tiny, just two benches, one sitting higher than the other, and a small stone stove near the door.

Yuri sniffed at the fragrant air, nose crinkling as he shed his robe, dumping it in a pile in the corner from the room. He wrapped the towel haphazardly around his waist as he clambered onto the higher bench.

The room was lit with a single, sodium lamp over the doorway. The soft, organic light catching against his skin and sending his vision into a palette of oranges and canary yellows.

Yuri exhaled through his nose as ran his fingers through his hair, combing the blonde threads through his fingers to tuck behind his ears. He was already beginning to feel the skin of his neck tingle as sweat beaded on his skin.

He shifted, wood sticking lines against his skin as he leaned back on the vertical joinery, feet spreading wide on the bench below. He rubbed his already fogged phone screen against his towelled thigh; it probably wasn’t good to use it in the sauna but whatever, he was desperate.

Yuri thumbed through his Instagram feed half-heartedly, free hand rubbing at the slickened skin at the back of his neck before dragging his wet fingertips down his chest. He tweaked at the pink skin of his nipples almost absentmindedly, shivering as he scrolled down Otabek’s feed.

 _There_.

His thumb stopped it’s rapid _tap, tap, tap_ across his phone screen, green eyes lighting up at the image. The lines of condensation across his screen only aiding the illusion of a very wet, very sexy Otabek.

Yuri abandoned the now abused red skin of his nipples, hand dropping lower to palm himself over the fluffy texture of the towel. A few stray droplets of sweat worked their way from his hair line, notch by notch down his spine, as he ground the heel of his palm down on his aching dick.

Wet Otabek. 

We Otabek in the pool, all naked panes of smooth muscle. 

Yuri whimpered under his breath at the fantasy. His finger tips began to dip beneath the soft barrier of fabric, trailing down the lines of his abdomen.

Wet Otabek’s strong hands digging into his hips as his cock pushed into Yuri’s stretched out rim. Water sloshing around them as Yuri was fucked against the pool wall, mouth open and gasping with each thrust that split him open _just right_.

There was a sudden change in air pressure. 

The shocking burst of cool air chased away Yuri’s gasp as his fingers brushed against the head of his cock, replacing it with a growl as his chin snapped up from where his eyes were glued to his fogged-up phone screen.

“The fu—“

His green eyes narrowed as they fell on a familiar, bearded face.

“Uh, this room occupied?”

Emil Nekola’s smile was wide, like someone had told him a joke immediately before entering the sauna. Something that might have been the case as Yuri heard the echoing female laughter disappear down the hall beyond where Emil towered in the doorway.

He thought he saw a flash of red hair, but he might have been wrong.

Emil’s soft blue eyes flickered down across Yuri’s torso, to the hand that dipped into the towel loose around Yuri’s hips, then back up again to his surprised face. 

Yuri’s cheeks coloured pink to match the bloodshot whites of Emil’s eyes as he glowered; caught with his hand on his dick in an arguably public setting.

Yuri’s delayed reaction was to splutter out a curse, hand flying away from his crotch as if burned by his own touch. His phone fumbled his in his other hand, slipping from his damp fingers to clatter down to the lower bench.

Yuri only blushed (no, seethed) harder as Emil laughed, the door swinging behind him as he moved into the room. Yuri watched as he plucked the phone from the lower bench, wet beard dripping patterns of water over his chest. He was wearing nothing, well, nothing but a tiny hand towel soaked through with smelly pool water that was vainly covering his junk.

Yuri tried not to pay too much mind to the fact the uncut tip of Emil’s cock was peaking out from underneath the fabric, foreskin dripping water to catch on the coarse blonde hair on his thighs. 

A sound of what threatened to be a giggle was muted between Emil’s lips as Yuri saw him glance at the still prominently displayed photo of Otabek, then back to his face.

He offered the phone back to Yuri with an almost genuinely sympathetic look.

Yuri felt hot and red all over, like a balloon about to pop as he glared down from his bench at Emil’s bearded face. He couldn’t find words to curse at the Czech skater, instead baring his teeth as he swiped his phone back, sidling further into the corner of the sauna, away from the _still smiling_ Emil.

“Sorry to interrupt.”

He chuckled nonchalantly as he sidled away, turning to expose his bare, freckly ass as he dumped a ladle of water on the stove. The water hissed and steamed, condensing into a thick cloud that sat around Yuri’s head.

Emil, seemingly at ease despite the face he was essentially naked and had just walked in on a fellow competitor about to jerk off to _another_ fellow competitor, took a seat below Yuri. 

What’d they feed people in the Czech Republic anyway? If Yuri had to guess from glances of Emil during their brief periods of interaction, it was mostly just canned tuna and 4.5% lager. 

Whatever it was it was working, cause Emil was only a handful of years older than Yuri and he was _massive_. 

At least a head-higher than Yuri he was all broad-shoulders and long, long legs. Panes of muscle cut in a way that reminded Yuri of those fucked up YouTube videos where guys grappled up the side of massive granite boulders, shirtless without ropes. 

Knowing Emil he probably was one of those crazy assholes. A _thrill seeker_ and _extreme sports enthusiast_ , at least that’s what his ISU profile advertised (not that Yuri had looked).

No.

And definitely not looking at the way the tiny wet towel stretched obscenely over the outline of Emil’s cock. 

Yuri watched him carefully from his perch on the upper bench, the other skater humming a faintly pleased melody under his breath before shaking the water from his mop of shaggy blonde hair much like a dog would.

Yuri flinched away from the shower of droplets, glaring at Emil’s back as the phone screen clenched between his fingers flickered to black. 

Wet, hot Otabek forgotten momentarily in favor of a much more imminent prospect.

Yuri subtly, leaned over to the side, catching a glimpse of Emil’s lightly freckled torso, covered in fine, blonde fuzz. Hair that would be barely perceptible in a regular setting, but with the heat of the sauna, the sweat collecting on Emil’s skin caught on each fine hair to create a palpable sheen of moisture.

The fine hairs thickened and coalesced between his pecs in a tempting scrub of coarse hair that clung onto droplets of sweat.

Yuri watched as he threw a hand over his head, opposite hand pushing on his elbow as he stretched out his shoulder with an audible _click_ of the joint, muscles of his back contorting like a barrel of angry snakes.

He was lost in thought, staring at Emil’s back when the Czech in question turned his chin over his shoulder to look at him with a knowing smile. As if he _knew_ Yuri’s cock was pressed up hard between the folds of his towel as he imagined being man-handled up against the sauna walls.

Yuri snapped back to attention, trying desperately too look uninterested he painted the most unpleasant look he could muster across his face. He was acting fucking desperate.

It was embarrassing.

Emil as if sensing that, just laughed, disengaging from the stretch he swiveled around on the pine bench, long legs crossing one over the other as he laid flat on his back to stare up at Yuri on the upper level.

“Enjoying the view?”

He snickered to himself, crossing his arms behind head, blue eyes glimmering a little in amusement.

Yuri open his mouth to offer a snide reply before he realized Emil was copping an eyeful of Yuri’s junk from under his towel.

Yuri blushed, one hand mashing down the towel over his crotch to obscure the view as he glared.

“The fuck is your problem?”

He spat with as much venom as he could muster. It’s not like he didn’t _like_ the attention, he just didn’t like the way the asshole giggled when he gave it to him. Like a certain stupid, smiling Canadian in the locker room before practice.

Except Emil was not a stupid Canadian. His doughy eyed gaze gave away too much of what he was thinking. And it didn’t take much of a leap of imagination for Yuri to construe why Emil had bothered to hang around in a sauna, almost naked at a stroke before midnight.

Wet Emil.

Wet, hairy Emil, with his thick Czech dick already half-hard at literally nothing.

“No problem.”

Emil chirped to the forgotten, hyperbolic question. He closed his eyes, shifting his neck back to get comfortable on the bench, wirey muscles shifting under his skin. 

For a moment Yuri thought he was joking, pretending to nap or some shit before he would pull Yuri down on top of him and palmed his ass til he cried.

After a minute of utter silence it was apparent that was not the case. 

Yuri pouted down at the body laid out below him.

If there was one thing Yuri Plisetsky found more irritating than being teased… 

…it was being ignored.

Thus, without rhyme or reason, Yuri jabbed his big toe into the sensitive freckled skin of Emil’s hip _hard_. The response wasn’t a yelp, or a curse. Instead Emil just giggled, cock twitching unambiguously under the wet, white towel that clung to his crotch.

Yuri sniffed distastefully at the barely disguised, half-hard cock.

“Pervert.”

Yuri muttered under his breath with a faint sound of disgust, digging his toe in all the harder. 

He supposed he would just have to be proactive.

Emil managed an amused grunt, moving as if he was to sit up under Yuri’s other foot came out wide to push him in the chest.

“No. Bad dog.”

Yuri scolded sharply as he forced him down on his back, entranced by Emil’s impressively fast-growing dick fighting against the weight of the wet towel to tent up the fabric. 

Emil, to his credit, obediently laid back down, shifting his arms to the side to rest against the damp wood as he watched Yuri loom over top of him from the upper bench.

Yuri’s own towel was now hopelessly askew, slipping low around his hips and exposing the creamy insides of his thighs as his legs spread to control the other skater below him.

With the ball of one foot planted firmly on Emil’s sternum, chest hair tickling between Yuri’s toes, he maneuvered his other foot over the slightly tented fabric over Emil’s cock. He pressed the ball of his foot over the head, toes curling to peel the towel aside, flicking his ankle to let it land with a wet ‘thump’ on the boarded floor of the sauna.

Yuri eyed Emil’s uncovered cock with feline curiosity. The thick shaft laying prone against a wet mess of dirty blonde pubic hair that barely thinned toward his belly button, culminating in a trail of coarse hair that stood out against the hard lines of his abdomen. 

Casually, Yuri leant back on his hands, letting the arch of his foot push down on the almost-erect cock. He delighted in the sudden intake of air Emil sucked in as Yuri pushed all the harder on the velvety damp skin.

He supposed he could get used to this.

“Are you going to be a good dog?”

Yuri pouted, eyes flickering back up to stare at Emil, grin now askew on his face as he huffed against the painful pressure that sandwiched his cock against his belly. He puffed out another breath as if to laugh, but his amusement was lost when Yuri scooted almost off the bench, balancing his weight between the one foot on Emil’s sternum and the other on his cock.

Emil was a big guy, Yuri reckoned he could manage.

Emil hesitated a moment, wincing against the foot planted between his pecs, before he wheezed in a breath and nodded. 

It was Yuri’s turn to smile then as he immediately released the pressure on Emil’s body. He let the towel fall off him entirely, sweat now openly running down his ivory-white skin, following down the soft lines of his tight belly. He parted his thighs and shifted forward on the bench, pointing at the space between them with unambiguous intent.

Emil sat up carefully, as if not entirely sure he’d be kicked back down again, shifting into the space with a barely disguised, self-satisfied smirk. He knelt hard on the wood, Yuri’s thighs parted wide to accommodate the broad space of his shoulders.

Yuri painted his face in the most bored expression he could muster, leaning back on one hand and loosely palming his cock in the either. Skin sticky and damp with sweat.

Yuri watched Emil’s eyes trace the lines of sweat, all the way down to his cock that stood pink and erect from the faintest wisps of blonde hair.

Emil licked his lips.

Surprisingly, he made no move to touch himself, fingertips instead tracing around the delicate tendons of Yuri’s ankles. Yuri tried to jerk away as the rough fingertips skirted over the arch of his foot, though Emil held hard onto his ankles with his thumb and forefingers.

“Ticklish?”

Yuri tried to squirm away but was held tight by Emil’s grip on his ankles.

He glared, unfisting his cock to scratch curiously at Emil’s beard, smearing pre-cum over his chin.

“Just hurry up and suck my dick already.”

Emil laughed, brushing his fingertips over the bottom of Yuri’s feet again, giggling as he watched him uselessly contort away only to be pulled back.

The steam must have been starting to go to Yuri’s head, because he didn’t even try to pull back his feet as Emil brought them to his face and licked the soles with wide, wet strokes of his tongue.

“Pervert.”

Yuri grit out again, reluctant to admit the unusual amount of attention had gone straight to the pit of his belly. Small cock weeping and flushed pink against his belly as Emil’s mouth moved up to suck on the tips of his toes.

Rolls of sweat and evaporating pool water clung in streaks across Emil’s chest, matting the hair between his pecs as he lovingly sucked on each of Yuri’s toes with a hazy, half-baked expression.

Before Yuri had a chance to tell him to get a move on, Emil had halted his laving treatment to his feet, instead gripping him by the ankles and moving them back down to his straining cock. Shoulder’s still pushed between Yuri’s knees he forced Yuri’s feet together underneath him. 

Emil shuddered in a breath, eyes fixing on Yuri’s face with a half-smile as he rubbed the wet soles of Yuri’s feet against his cock. 

Content to play along, Yuri began to move his feet in the rhythm Emil had set, watching half fascinated as his expression contorted into a hiss of pleasure. He pressed the arches of Yuri’s feel together, thrusting into the makeshift space between them with a loud moan, the sound echoing off the sauna walls and falling thick in the damp air.

Emil’s eyes were almost crazed as he released Yuri’s ankles, hands flying up instead to curl around Yuri’s waist, as he wasted no time in getting Yuri’s dick in his mouth with an over-exaggerated ‘slurp’.

Yuri, not prepared for the enthusiasm or speed at which Emil swallowed around his dick, could only moan as he felt the rough scratch of facial hair tickle against his belly. 

Emil engulfed his cock entirely with hard swallows and almost-painful suction. His hands so big in comparison to Yuri’s tiny waist his thumbs almost met in the middle.

Yuri gasp as he _squeezed_ at the lower part of his rib cage. The constriction and the heavy air made him dizzy, made his head loll to the side and his hair cascade back over his face as Emil thrust wildly against his feet.

If Yuri was in a clearer state of mind he would have laughed at how Emil humped the sweaty, saliva-slick gap between the arches of his feet, but he couldn’t. Instead his head swam, the sodium yellow light above the door leaving streaks across his vision. He sobbed, fingers coming to scratch at the tops of Emil’s shoulders, freckled skin raising with red lines as Yuri tried to fight against the tight hold on his waist and the too-hard suction over his cock.

It _hurt_. Or did it? Yuri couldn’t get his head straight, only gasp each time he felt Emil take a shuddering inhalation through his nose, face pressed into his groin.

By this point Yuri’s feet were barely pushed together, legs shaky and weak as Emil kneeled between them, slurping and sucking his cock in wet smacks. It didn’t matter, because a moment later Yuri was coming with a half-gasped curse, dick twitching helplessly in Emil’s mouth as he was milked dry in long and desperate spurts.

Yuri didn’t have time to linger on his orgasm as Emil pulled back, hands releasing his waist and moving back to his ankles to push his feet back together all the harder around his cock. Yuri watched with half-coherent fascination as Emil spat out a mouth full of Yuri’s cum, mixed with his own saliva, over his own cock still trapped between Yuri’s feet.

It was only another, _one_ , _two_ , _three_ , thrusts until Emil’s cum was mixing in the mess that covered Yuri’s feet. Ropes of semen squishing between his toes as Emil growled out a moan, half-hunched over Yuri’s legs, wiry thighs shaking where he knelt on the hard wood of the bench. Cum and saliva caught in a messy nest of white that stuck in his thick pubic hair.

Yuri blinked, attempting to take in a heavy, wet breath. Half slumped against the wall he felt his limbs heavy and his eyelids flutter.

Time was an elastic concept for a moment. Slowing down then speeding up around him as his chest heaved in and out against the dank confines of the sauna.

It wasn’t until the cold air hit Yuri’s face that he realized he was being carried out of the sauna princess style in Emil’s arms. He murmured unhappily, pushing weakly against the arms that cradled him, only to deposit him too soon onto refreshingly cool tiles.

Yuri’s eyes fluttered open when water was splashed into his face, hissing against the spray that shot up his nose.

“Wakey, wakey.”

Yuri’s world snapped into focus as he stared up at Emil’s white-toothed smile, freckled and scratched-up shoulders covered in a fluffy white robe. He stood over Yuri, smug expression snapped back over his face.

Yuri glared back up at him, feeling the blood return to his brain as Emil splashed him a couple more times in the face with an amused giggled. He spluttered, sitting up-right, buck-naked on the edge of the pool, grimacing against the sticky sensation of saliva and drying cum between his toes.

Emil huffed, straightening to tower over Yuri. His mouth opened as if he were about to say something, but then closed. He snapped his fingers as if remembering something, pulling Yuri’s phone free of the robe pocket and offering it back to him.

Yuri reached up with an unsteady hand, fingers brushing as he pulled his phone back to his chest with a wary look.

“Tell your boyfriend I said hi.”

Was the only farewell Emil offered as he turned on his heel, bare feet slapping against the tile as he exited the pool area.

Yuri watched him go with a flat expression.

“…’s not my boyfriend.”

His brain reacted a few seconds too slow as he responded to the empty room.

Yuri’s phone buzzed as if in response, he glanced down to the text notification, before dumping his feet into the cold water of the pool. 

_Otabek Altin_.

Yuri frowned at his phone screen, unlocking it with a few taps only to find a picture of himself; green eyes still faintly open as he glared at the camera from a POV-shot below his cum-covered feet.

He snorted at the response.

_Glad you had fun._

———


End file.
